


she couldn't see the sky

by cateliot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: CIA, Director May?, F/M, Langley - Freeform, May's perfect, Mending Fences, Multilingual, OC, Post-Episode: s03e10 Maveth, President, Washington D.C., at everything, everyone loves May, partners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 04:08:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6179647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cateliot/pseuds/cateliot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When meeting the president to advocate for the future of S.H.I.E.L.D. Coulson ponders the fate of his partnership, his mistakes, and his best friend in the past few months.</p>
            </blockquote>





	she couldn't see the sky

The presidential suite given to the team to be presenting at the White House was a gorgeous villa on the edge of the Potomac in D.C.  They were due to be presenting multiple speeches and debates within the cabinet throughout the weekend, eventually meeting with the president himself by the end.

“These are some sweet digs,” Daisy greeted as they walked through the rooms.  The décor was light and airy and after the hell of the past few months they had been in far worse places.

Simmons and Daisy were bunking up together in the room next to the river which left Mack and Fitz to the second, smaller one.  No one seemed to say anything about the last, master bedroom going to Coulson and May. 

The Chinese woman had been fearfully quiet since retrieving Simmons and the closing of the portal.  “Think we can do this?”

“The Agency is not known for their ready acceptance of others.”

She was still facing the open windows, the sun glancing off her face, making her pale skin glimmer like diamonds.  “Really ’cause I was pretty sure my charming personality was going to guarantee us the win.”

The joke didn’t make a dent in his partner’s mask and he couldn’t help but deflate slightly. 

 

 

They met a former Mossad officer turned agent advocate, Ari Sharif, in the White House for a private dinner and coaching session outside a Thai restaurant.  He had spoken with the agent over the phone a few times, but never met the impeccably well dressed and well-spoken man in person.

“It’s good to meet you, Director.”  His voice was accented, but just barely enough to not make a scratch on his English. 

“This is my team,” he gestured fondly with the only hand he had left, “Doctors Fitz and Simmons and Agent Mackenzie, Johnson, and—”

“Hello Melinda.”

He couldn’t help but blink owlishly as the suit walked the three steps to stand in front of May and bowed slightly.  The glittering, soft smile on her face at the display of her respect to her culture took Phil’s breath away.

 

 

They had several state dinners with dignitaries from all over the world.  “Make as many friends as you can” Sharif had instructed and in the swirling of champagne, black lace, and foreign languages, May had put them all to shame.

 

 

He had just been passing by the girls’ door to get a drink of water from the kitchen.  He hadn’t meant to hear them— _really_.  “Have you noticed that all the politicians listen more when May talks than Coulson?” Fitz’s voice was just above a whisper and Coulson told himself he shouldn’t eavesdrop, even if it’s on subordinates.

“It’s the secret kick ass, ninja aura.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Simmons’ voice interrupted, “It’s not her fault that she is held in higher esteem than Coulson from her skill sets.”

 _Yeah, he shouldn’t be eavesdropping_. 

 

 

“Hey.”

She tilted her head as he came over, still dressed in his pajamas.  Her eyes glanced over his attire before moving over to the clock on the wall across from them that noted that time.  3:49.  He had seen her get lost in her head before.  Loosing track of time and places…people.  He forced himself to swallow and ask the question he came over to ask. 

“Everything okay?”

Something made her eyes flicker up to his face.  Her eyes were searching for something—what he didn’t know.  An answer to a question she couldn’t ask, maybe. 

“Everything is fine.”

And cue the heavy castle walls to go back up.  Sighing, he leaned up against the wall, watching her knuckles press up against the glass, trailing up and down it, leaving her fingerprints on the surface.  

“I just, uh, we never really got a chance to talk after..."

She moved restlessly suddenly, and met his gaze head on, “after what?  After you decided to take Bobbi and Hunter on a revenge mission against Ward?  Or after you left Mack in charge so you could jumped out of a plane into a portal to another world?  Maybe after Jemma let Andrew out of the containment module so he could kill a few more people.”

Her voice didn’t waver from the calm manner she began in. 

Barely over a whisper. 

Breathless.  

“I—” He waited for something else to come out of his mouth, but nothing did.  So he said the only thing he could.  He only thing he knew.

“ _Melinda_.”

She just walked away.

 

 

“What do you think he’s like?” Daisy was fiddling with her “professional” attire.  The blouse and long pants were uncomfortably loose compared to her usual tight fitting outfits of choice.

“The president?”

“He’s a perfectly respectable man who’s under a lot of stress,” signaled the arrival of Sharif with the car to take them to the White House.  Coulson shook hands again with Sharif who was going to introduce them to the council.  The entire ride was nervously silent, each person’s mind quiet with their own demons.  When they arrived, the man coached them through being scanned into the building.

“There is going to be a group of CIA agents sitting in the wings, they won’t be speaking, just standing by, then the president will be seated in the center, alongside two of his closest council members, Luther and

His eyes coursed over all of them.  “Remember to speaking slowly, but confidently.”  His eyes lingered on FitzSimmons a moment longer than anyone else, but he turned back to Coulson.  “We’ve seated you closest to the President, addressing his humanity among other things.  Don’t be nervous, they’ll be able to sense it.  It’s important to show your grace under pressure.”

“Mister President, this is Director Coulson of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

He entered a large, marbled room where there were two men and a woman sitting at a table in from of a rectangular one.  The side of the room were filled with suited men and woman all sitting silently in various plastic chairs, back straight and at attention. 

The bronze hair, middle aged man in the middle of the table reached his hand out, but Coulson reached across with his left hand to awkwardly shake.

“I’m afraid the other one is just for show.”

The man gave a laugh, but quickly recovered from any surprise, “It’s good to meet you Coulson.  I’m very interested to hear what you have to say.  My associates have told me quite a bit about you.”

Coulson gave a wry smile, not sure what “quite a bit” meant, and his eyes flickered towards Sharif.  “Director this is Secretary of Defense, Charlotte Latif, and Director of the Homeland Security, Eli Luther.”

The Agency man, who was commanding even in grey and his early sixties, gave him a predatory smile.  The other woman was a blonde bunned woman with a calculating glare that seemed to zero in on FitzSimmons the second they entered.

“And this is the rest of his team.  Agent Daisy Johnson.”  She gave them a wave before taking the seat just to the left of Coulson.  “Deputy Director Alphonse Mackenzie.”

“Good to meet all of you,” Mack said nodding, as he took the seat across the table from Daisy.

“Doctor Fitz and Simmons,” both smiled brightly and waved and took seat opposite each other, leaving the seat at the head of the table, facing the presidential board open, “and Agent Melinda—”

The Israeli man was cut off by a mass movement in the wings of the CIA agents as they all stood to their feet.  The President and his Secretary looked startled as a well, turning slightly, glancing over at Luther who had also risen from his chair.  

“Why are the all standing up?  Should we stand up too?” Fitz panicked at the sight.

Daisy shushed them quietly, but her eyes found her S.O. who hadn’t moved since the mass display of what she assumed was respect and maybe awe.  She finally took another step into the room, her eyes scanning the people, before nodding once in acknowledgement, thanks perhaps, Daisy wasn’t sure, before sitting down at the head of the table. 

As one body, the others standing up in the room followed her move.

The President cleared his throat and the attention shifted back towards him immediately.

“Tell me Director Coulson about S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Coulson gave his spiel about saving humanity, the cost of the universe realizing that people were changing and how S.H.I.E.L.D. was the solution while no one interrupted him.  

And then the onslaught came.

Questions about the fragility of powered people.  Questions about the science behind containment modules and stopgap measures.  Questions about the effectiveness of their team. 

The President leaned over towards Luther, who was sitting on his right.  “Tell me Director Luther, what are your thoughts on the matter.”  The head of Homeland had been quietly observing the reactions as the cold woman had begun her questioning.

“Let me get this straight for the record.  S.H.I.E.L.D. is being run by an ex-field agent turned zombie through alien biology, their second in command is a mechanic with no field experience in an actual combat zone who amputate the arm of his commander with an ax.  The head of your gifted task force is a gifted herself and a walking natural disaster that could level a small city at any time.  Your science division is led by two clear geniuses, one with severe mental trauma post a mission accident and the other combating heavy PTSD from being trapped in an alien world,” Luther continued raising an eyebrow in the thundering silence that followed his words, “it seems to be that the only one _fit_ to be running the operation is Agent May and she hasn’t said a word yet.”

The entire room pivoted to look at the May and the silence was overwhelming.

“Well Agent May…” the president glanced at her, questioningly.

Melinda took her time leaning towards the microphone sitting in front of her.    

“That wasn’t a question, sir,” she deadpanned respectfully, leaning back in her chair. 

Daisy shot her a surprised glance, but her former SO paid no attention to it.  The president’s eyes widened for a moment before a smirk melted onto his lips.  “Why are you here, Agent May?”

“Director Coulson asked me to come with him and the others in order to represent S.H.I.E.L.D. to you and your cabinet, sir.”

There seemed to be a silent play for power in the room and neither May nor the president moved for a moment.  The air was terse and heavy like whipping cream.  It was only broken—and May seemed to come out victor—when Director Luther spoke.

“Agent May was one of ours, Mister President, until Peggy Carter got her to jump ship to S.H.I.E.L.D.  Her mother and I were extremely disheartened,” he said, with a small smirk.  Simmons’ head pivoted to stare at May, but the Chinese woman hadn’t turned away from the stage.

“My fifteen year old self is sorry for that.”  She still hadn’t broken eye contact from the Director’s.

He chuckled dryly. 

“I doubt that.  You always knew what you wanted, Melinda, and I’m sure that afternoon was no exception.  So I’m going to ask this question again, for the sake of clarity.  Why are you here, Agent May?”

Coulson turned slightly in his chair to look over at Melinda.  His eyes latched onto her form silently, waiting for her answer.

“I’m here for Director Carter.”

Luther leaned back in his chair, content with the answer.  “ _That_ is the first line of truth anyone has said today.”

“And why May wouldn’t you be here to help Agent Coulson.”  The president looked between Coulson and May and the entire table swiveled to look at the Chinese woman, but she didn’t break contact with the table in front of her.

“Director Coulson doesn’t need my help to make you listen to him.  The strategy of the situation in front of you seems evident to any low cadet—” the woman sputter indignantly, but Luther held up his hand as May continued, “you know that Langley doesn’t have the intel or the means to deal with this kind of outbreak.  S.H.I.E.L.D. does.  We’re your only option for threat assessment and containment unless you are content to let the world fall into chaos.  You don’t need my help in making that call.”

“So you’re here for Peggy,” Luther asked with a smile much less predatory than the one he gave to Coulson. 

“This is her agency.  I’m not going to be the one to explain to her that it’s been permanently labelled a terrorist organization.”

“So you trust S.H.I.E.L.D. to be the one to be the line?”

There wasn’t any hesitation in her voice as she answered.

“Yes.”

“Well I think that’s all I needed to hear, don’t you Mister President?”

 

 

Outside on the steps of the White House was the first time they could take a full breath.  Mack and Fitz were semi laying on the steps and Simmons and Daisy were fanning themselves despite the cool breeze.

“I can’t tell if that went fantastically well or terribly bad,” the British woman confessed.

Coulson could still feel his heartrate accelerating as he looked over his team despite the meeting being finished.  The only one who seemed to be beautiful, put together, and calm was Melinda who was standing on one of the higher steps, with her hair loosely picking up in the breeze. 

“For a second I thought you were going to hang us out to dry,” he said breathlessly in the crisp fall air as he walked up to her. 

Something akin to hurt flash in her large brown eyes before she firmly secured her mask back in place and he knew immediately that he had misspoke. 

“I’m sure you did.”

He attempted to backtrack immediately, but was cut off by the arrival of the CIA head.  “It was a cute trick, May,” Luther greeted them on the steps and Coulson registered to Mack and Daisy tensing, but the man wasn’t even facing in their direction. 

“I did learn from the best.” May hadn’t turned to face him from her conversation with Simmons who eyes were wide enough to potentially fall out of her head. 

“If Agents May, Coulson, and Johnson would come with me, I’d love to introduce them to some of the higher up at Langley while the President makes his decision.”

“Shouldn’t you be helping him do that?” Daisy’s voice was only slightly accusatory.

“Oh no, I think my opinion was made quite clear.  Come on—it’ll be fun.”

 

 

The office at Langley made the Playground look like a child’s play he had to begrudgingly admit.  They were ushered into a high-tech bullpen with all the bell and whistles and he could see Daisy’s hacker roots fangirling over all their material.

“Mellie!”

The pretty, dark haired woman bounded towards them dressed in full tactical gear and promptly kissed May on the cheek.  Coulson’s eyes widened as Melinda allowed the contact and promptly engaged in conversation with the woman, who was still talking, “About time you got your ass back here.  I’ve been— _oh you have company_.”  She cleared her throat awkwardly, “Hello there sir.”

May and Luther smirked.  “Agent Davis, this is Director Coulson and Agent Johnson, Daisy, Coulson, this is Alexa Davis, Langley black ops.”

“Pleasure,” she said smoothly, shaking both of their hands before turning back to May, “have you seen the specs for the new 2247B Firefly?  They just hooked it up to the simulator…could use a grade A pilot to give her a go.”

May hesitated for a moment, her eyes lingering on Coulson, before allowing herself to be swept away by the woman.  The Director could hear a portion of their conversation as they left.

_“So is this a vacation from you’re vacation or did you actually decide to go back?”_

His stomach tightened a little and he forced himself to turn back towards Daisy.

“May’s mother was the Secretary of CIA before the current administration,” Coulson informed her quietly as the women scanned their cards at the exit and disappeared in a whirl of dark hair. 

“Seriously?” Daisy looked unimpressed after them.  “She never mentioned that.”

Coulson pursed his lips and nodded as a group of suits being led by Luther.  “Sometimes I feel like I suddenly don’t know her at all.”

_Yeah, well get in line._

 

 

Back at their suite that night, he approached his former partner with a glass of scotch outstretched as a friendly offering…or a shield.  She took it without a fight, for which he was grateful.  Year of silence with Melinda told him that he was at least partially welcome.   

“How was your 223876 Apha Firefly Sr. jet?”

She rolled her eyes at his blatant butchering of the plane’s name.  “2247B,” she corrected, “and fine.”  He grinned and leaned back on the couch, squaring his face up to face her. 

“Maybe we should get a fighter jet.  It would be way more dope than a Quinjet.  Faster too.  Do you think we have room for it in the garage?”

She snorted.  “You don’t need a fighter jet to catch inhumans, Phil.”  Her fingers moved around and around the lip of the glass, clockwise and counterclockwise and back around again.  It was hypnotic and if he didn’t know better he’d think she was doing it on purpose.

“That’s not all we do—” he protested, but he caught her gaze and swallowed the rest of the protest.  “Are we going to be okay?”

She was startled by the question.  He could see it in the way her pupils dilated and her breath paused for the briefest of seconds.  He held her gaze, not allowing her to weave her way out of this conversation. 

They _needed_ this conversation. 

No matter how much she didn’t want to have it.

May opened her mouth to reply when her voice was cut off by his cell phone.  She dropped his gaze immediately and as he moved to get up from the phone, she moved away from the couch and him.  From his peripheral vision he watch as she moved back to the glass doors that walked out onto the terrace.

“Yes sir?” he answered, eagerly listening to the voice on the other end.

She never seemed to want to go onto the balcony.  She just stood on the edge of the doors, leaning into the glass like she was holding up the building.

“I—yes, sir.  Thank you sir.  You won’t regret this.  I will.  Thank you again, sir.”

He couldn’t force the smile off his face, but he forced himself to take a calming breath before walking back over to her. 

“He signed the proposal?”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. is officially no longer a terrorist organization,” he said unable to keep the smile off his face.  A relieved smile washed over her features. 

“Good.”

“All thanks to you.”

She shook her head almost immediately.  “I just told them what they wanted to hear.  It was your organization from the beginning.  This one's yours.”

He let the shifting of praise go, but he could feel the excitement bubbling through his body. “Should we wake the others?” 

Coulson turned to glance at the closed doors to the sleeping agents, but Melinda shook her head softly.  “Just let them sleep; the news will still be good in the morning.”

He knew she was right, of course.  They all got preciously little sleep and if the press conference’s stress hadn’t knocked them out, the amount of drinking they had done afterwards would have. 

If Melinda glittered in the morning light then the shone brighter in the darkness, he noted.  Her eyes found his for a moment and he knew he had been caught staring. 

“I should, uh, call Bobbi and the rest of the team.”

He left her at her vigil near the terrace.

_Only later did he realize that the Playground had no windows and she couldn’t see the sky._

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always welcome and appreciated!


End file.
